


True Blue

by upallnightstrungtight



Category: Super Junior
Genre: BDSM, M/M, sex toy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upallnightstrungtight/pseuds/upallnightstrungtight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time, he gives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Blue

While he didn’t quite expect how he got here, sitting on the edge of his bed, Ryeowook pressing into his space wasn’t particularly unusual, even if feeling somewhat like cornered prey was. And, sure, they were usually more- well, _equally_ dressed at this point. But it still wasn’t all that strange until the moment Ryeowook shoved Henry’s legs wide apart with his thighs as if they were feathers. Henry had intended nothing more than an affectionate squeeze with his knees, a move he’d made dozens of times while he pulled Ryeowook down towards him for a kiss, but now, he’s stuck in shock, hand poised to reach for his face except that he can’t move. Even as he finally catches up to read the mood correctly, he finds himself falling back onto the bed with a soft thump, not yet fully aware that Ryeowook had pushed him. He scoots back out of habit. Bad idea.

“Stay right there,” Ryeowook barks at him, crouching down and shoving his nightstand drawers open. Must’ve forgotten which one- and the handcuffs clank softly against each other falling onto the side of the bed, muffled by the thin layer of cloth wrapped over them.

 _Okay, I can work with this._ Henry’s not sure if he’s supposed to position himself, though, so he waits for Ryeowook to move his arms above his head. He doesn’t wait very long. After both he and the latches are in place, Ryeowook steps back, stripping off his t-shirt and stepping out of his pants with short, sharp motions, not wearing anything complicated that could slow him down. _That must be on purpose. How many times has he planned this in his head?_ Henry wonders, then instantly regrets it. Thinking about Ryeowook thinking about him is too much for him right now. Instead, he notices that Ryeowook had flung his clothes into a pile rather than using his usual care.

“Better,” Ryeowook says, resuming his previous position. He seems to have more pent-up ferocity than he knows what to do with, sinking his teeth first into Henry’s knee, then up to his ribs with a tight hold on his waist, then each hip in turn with harsh breathing that’s almost a growl. There’s a split second where Henry’s worried when Ryeowook starts pulling down his waistband, but Henry knows he’s aware that there’s nothing pleasurable for him about _that_ kind of pain. He’s gentle now, a reprieve of sorts from the dizzying journey the night has been so far. The storm gathers again in three heartbeats, Ryeowook biting at Henry’s inner thigh after his hips are back on the bed. He tries not to squirm too much. He’s less successful when Ryeowook climbs onto him, holding down his hips with his full weight. As an experiment, Henry pushes up, but only finds himself held down more firmly than before. He looks at Ryeowook’s hands lying flat on either side of his navel and small wrists that he can wrap his hand around more than once - and has, many, many times. Because of his size and his frame, it’s easy to forget where Ryeowook’s strength lies, but his thighs might as well be steel for how little Henry was able to move him.

It’s not that Henry’s trying to buck him off, he’s not an idiot, he just wants _more_. Even Ryeowook’s glare and pursed lips from his attempts makes heat pool low in his belly. He’s been so damn busy the past three weeks and he’s getting desperate; he’s never been more glad to live alone, because the the mere idea of someone else hearing the filth coming out of his mouth during his hasty morning showers is _mortifying_. When he got Ryeowook’s forceful, no-frills message a few days ago about coming over to spend the night, the thrill of anticipation that went through him nearly broke his brain. He had to shove his phone into his pocket and find something to occupy his hands to keep from doing anything embarrassing like begging, except it looks like the time for that has come anyway. Once Ryeowook gets in this mood, he wants exactly what he wants, no questions or hesitation. “Please, I need you so bad, _please_!” The handcuffs are the cheap novelty kind, so Henry could fumble around to push the release latch right now if he really wanted, but he really, really doesn’t. Ryeowook’s intense gaze alone makes him weak with need, the message loud and clear. _I want you. I’m going to take what I want._ “I couldn’t think about anything else,” Henry says, breathless, rubbing against that thin layer of fabric again for any hint of friction he can get.

“Is that right?” Ryeowook murmurs, shifting forward until his mouth presses against the point between Henry’s ear and jaw, too soft, then nipping his earlobe, low chuckle too loud, too close. “And how did you think this was gonna go? Did you think I would kiss you shyly, let you take my clothes off, be a fool for you? Did you think about me on my hands and knees, asking you with a soft voice to please fuck me?”

“Maybe,” Henry admits in a whisper. How is it his fault, all of a sudden, that he enjoys his memories of pleasuring this beautiful, delicate creature on every available surface? Except at the moment, delicate is definitely the wrong word.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you like. You _like_ it when I act all innocent and embarrassed. I know how to play that game to get what I want from you.” Harsh as it is, there’s something sweet about the admission, about Ryeowook observing him so closely, giving him what he wants. Ryeowook’s knees tighten around him, teeth scraping along his shoulder only increasing his squirming. Another chuckle, then Ryeowook licks a slow stripe up the side of his neck. Henry’s more overwhelmingly aroused than ever. It may have been a mistake to deny himself through the days between the message and Ryeowook showing up at Henry’s doorstep, confidently clicking the lock closed behind him like he owned the place, but if so, it’s a mistake he’ll greatly enjoy. It’s made him hypersensitive, every fleeting touch shooting sparks through his entire body. “Tonight, we’re playing by my rules,” Ryeowook hisses.

“Whatever you want,” Henry groans, his eyes squeezed shut as he turns his head to bare his neck even more. His schedule’s clear tomorrow, so there’s no worry about marks or makeup; he doesn’t have to do anything but enjoy Ryeowook’s mouth on his throat, suction and the barest press of teeth leaving him aching. Ryeowook seems to enjoy his whimpering, pushing Henry down into the mattress with his entire body. There’s nothing Henry wouldn’t beg for right now, no cliff he wouldn’t crash into for the siren drawing him in. He wants to touch so _badly_ , but he wants to submit even more, wants to give Ryeowook everything he demands. It’s so damn _hot_ when he takes charge like this, a rare delicacy; allowing Henry to give him something is the rarest gift of all. But right this moment, he’s pulling away, and Henry sees him watching closely when he opens his eyes again.

“Whatever I want?” Ryeowook says, his smirk growing sharper, almost cruel. He dips his head, kisses every part of the hollow of Henry’s clavicle and the base of his throat, like he’s stamping a mark of ownership into Henry’s skin with his soft lips. Ryeowook is searing Henry’s skin with velvet, ghosting down his side. He’s whimpering again.

“Please” is all that’s left of his vocabulary. As if to show the very futility of his words, Ryeowook stops even that, scooting to lean over the bed and letting his shins rest on Henry’s abdomen. There’s a quiet squeak as he opens the bottom nightstand drawer. _Oh **no**_ , Henry thinks.

“Let’s see what else we have in here.” The soft swish of fabric being moved around is soon overshadowed by an enthusiastic exclamation from Ryeowook. Once he pushes his top half back onto the bed, he sits up, triumphant grin taking over his face as he holds up Henry’s beginner toy and its attached controls in one hand and a half-full bottle of lube in the other. _Good thing I put in new batteries last week_ , Henry thinks weakly, feeling a bit lightheaded. Only one of those items was in the original plan, which, if it was paper, would be shredded smaller than confetti at this point. Ryeowook pushes his knees bent, then crawls between them as he repositions himself, swallowing nervously. Next thing he knows, pop, click, cool and slick against his overheated skin. Through the nipping along the back of his thigh and bottom curve of his ass, Ryeowook simply holds the toy against him, pressing only enough to keep it steady. Henry takes big, loud breaths, then scoots down to press back. Message received, Ryeowook gradually pushes harder, lapping at the head of his cock with teasing little licks as he works it in, barely giving him any time to reorient himself before turning the vibration onto the lowest setting, just enough to slowly drive him mad in his current state.

Said descent into madness is only hastened by Ryeowook stepping off the bed again. He bends down to remove his underwear and Henry thinks he’s a work of art given human form, staring at the curve of his back, at his hair falling back down over his forehead as he straightens, at his cocked hip as he flings the fabric to join his previous discards. If less and more have the same effect, there’ll be nothing left of Henry’s sanity by sunrise, but it’s hard to care when Ryeowook strides towards him with purpose. He’s not so much hunted as already caught, feeling like a spoil of war under that devouring scrutiny. And yet, even as Ryeowook physically pins him down, it changes.

He’s never quite gotten used to the way Ryeowook likes to just sit and look at him sometimes. It’s certainly a bit out of place now, with Ryeowook’s knees bracketing his upper arms, legs tense with straining to not put too much weight where he’s straddling his chest, but joy and adoration are miles better than the lines of stress Ryeowook wears on his face all too often. Henry’s elbows are bent sharply to fit his arms against the wall, Ryeowook leaning forward to press down on his wrists, close enough now for Henry to strain up off the bed and take Ryeowook into his mouth. _Finally_ , he gets to _do_ something, no matter what the consequences might be. Not a full range of motion, sure, but he stretches his neck to get as much as he can. For an instant, his wrists aren’t grasped or pushed anymore, but clamped painfully before one is released. Ryeowook’s fingers thread their way through Henry’s hair, squeezing erratically in time with every “Ah!” that falls from his lips. His furrowed brow and barely-open eyes, dazed and almost pleading, are a glorious sight to behold. He bites his lip, mutters a curse and pushes Henry back down, sliding until he’s spread over Henry’s hips again instead.

“You’re perfect,” Henry says, awe clear in his voice as he’s lost in the vast ocean of that very reality. For a moment, Ryeowook wavers, hesitates, then the smirk is back in full force, even as he strokes one knuckle in a circle, soft as silk, over Henry’s cheek, then over his jaw, fingers spreading to a firm grip on his chin. As the other hand presses down on his forearm, Ryeowook’s lips meet his, solid and demanding.

Is this a game, or is the sweetness? Or is Ryeowook the moon, always changing? It doesn’t matter right now, so Henry opens for him with a tiny, fleeting lick to his bottom lip. It’s all Ryeowook needs to continue, if he needed anything at all, his tongue pushing back against Henry’s, not exploration but full-on conquest. The slow rolls of his hips push Henry into the bed once more and there’s a potent physical reminder of his desire, that all this has a purpose. They’re both panting when Ryeowook pulls away. He’s heavy-lidded, stunning, breathtaking. Henry knows he can’t ask right now, can’t say anything that could be heard as a demand, so he doesn’t know what to do. He twitches up without meaning to, needing to be closer. As if in reply, Ryeowook’s legs are suddenly back between Henry’s, once more prying his thighs apart with his own. Henry can feel his heart racing as Ryeowook then presses flush against him, as Ryeowook runs his hands over Henry’s arms with a sure touch, down over his chest and stomach, up and down his sides, and over the length of his legs. While he can’t make out what Ryeowook whispers, that glazed look of hunger in his eyes is so familiar, so connected to its subsequent sensations that it induces a deep, pulsing longing in Henry all by itself.

Squeezing out a good handful, Ryeowook warms the liquid in his hand first, an escaped drop startling Henry with a pinprick of cold bursting on his skin. It looks like enough but feels like only the most cursory coating, though he might just be desperate for more touch, the few seconds of waiting unbearable. Ryeowook’s eyes close as he slides down onto Henry’s cock, silently taking bigger breaths, his ease at odds with the clinging heat that’s flooding Henry’s senses. He gasps, his eyes rolling back as longing turns into frenzy. With a shuddering exhale, he digs his nails into his palm in order to maintain the scrap of coherence he needs to _fucking keep still_. He shifts his legs the tiniest bit for more leverage, and his lust-addled mind is just barely cogent enough to use the opportunity to reposition his hands, now ready to release the latch on the handcuffs at a moment’s notice. That’s all he’s going to get.

Finally, _finally_ , Ryeowook relinquishes more than a small fraction of his iron control, head thrown back as he moves himself up and back down, his collarbone standing out in sharp definition and the elegant planes of his torso in stark relief, the muscles in his thighs flexing with his motions. The image is exquisite enough to nearly bring Henry to tears. He whines with frustration but elects to keeps his mouth shut and his hands where they are. He doesn’t _think_ Ryeowook would just stop and leave him like this, but he’s not going to risk finding out. He _wants_ , though. Wants to sit up, take over, touch, hold his lover close, wants Ryeowook’s mouth on his neck again and Ryeowook’s hands clutching his shoulders and forearms pressed into his back, wants to feel his quickening breaths and hear his exhortations and encouragement, wants _everything_.

Keeping up his slow pace, Ryeowook reaches back with one of his hands, Henry feeling his palm running up his thigh and over his balls, Ryeowook then skimming with his fingertips. Surprised, Henry moans louder than he meant to, feeling completely out of control. Ryeowook slides down and stops, his caress turning into squeezing edging harder and harder. Henry can feel himself throb just from that, even without any other stimulation. “If you come before I do, I will make you regret it,” Ryeowook growls as he slowly lifts himself up and eases back down again, releasing his grasp, the same look in his eyes as when he’d stalked towards Henry in his own entryway earlier. There was a pattern of Ryeowook demanding more pictures when Henry wore a button-down shirt, so he’d put on a well-fitted white one with the tightest jeans he could find in his closet, rolling up his sleeves and feeling ready for a night of seduction. He didn’t realize he was going to be dinner instead, didn’t expect Ryeowook nipping at his skin down the line exposed by each open button in turn, didn’t foresee his jeans being practically ripped off. Being pushed back into his bedroom and onto his bed with nothing but a glare and sure, heavy steps leading him was yet another thing he wasn’t prepared for. Still, he’s hardly unhappy with how it ended up.

Then, Ryeowook does one more thing out of sight. He turns up the vibration. Some sort of incomprehensible choked-off noise finds its way out of Henry’s throat as he thrashes his head around, the hand not touching the release mechanism now clenched around the handcuff of the opposite wrist, vaguely feeling that this is unfair given the order he was issued. Ryeowook stopped again and leaned forward. “You’re _mine_. Mine to do with as I please,” he said in a low, smooth voice. Correction, _that_ was unfair. But now, he’s not only speeding up with no sign of stopping, but also stroking himself with careless efficiency, a sure signal that he’s not going to drag this out any longer. Henry alternates between shutting his eyes from overwhelm and struggling them back open to watch. Ryeowook’s panting grows with his intensity, louder and louder. His forehead is glowing with sweat when he lets out a startled “ _Oh!_ ”, the cue Henry’s been waiting for to unlatch the handcuffs, Ryeowook’s shout and the clenching around him _almost_ enough. He tosses the handcuffs off somewhere and quickly grips Ryeowook’s hips, thrusting up into him a mere handful of times before following him over the edge.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Henry practically yells, rocketing over the peak of days of frustration and anticipation, completely taken over by pleasure, his release blanking his mind. He remains that way for a good thirty seconds, by his best estimate, taking deep, gulping breaths while he trembles from relieved tension and the aftershocks everywhere Ryeowook’s still touching him or even just breathing on him.

He slowly regains awareness, first of the sounds he didn’t even realize he made until now, a minute later, an extended combination of moaning and whimpering that he fiercely hopes the neighbors couldn’t hear, or the entire block, for that matter. Next is that Ryeowook has already unjoined them, turned off the vibration and is easing the toy out of him with a gorgeous content smile and a low, happy hum. After that, he notices every scattered place on him that feels wet and his arms feeling like jelly and a bit of moisture at the corners of his eyes, and lastly, the fact that he’s never felt more relaxed in his _life_. He feels the shifting dips in the bed, then soon hears water running in the background, but there’s no need to look, his eyelids can rest, everything’s just fine right now.

There’s a warm, damp cloth running over his skin, then a dry one, and then he’s warm again. On one half, anyway. He opens his eyes and lazily tips his head to the side, bumping into something that smells nice. Oh, that’s because Ryeowook is curled around his side sweetly, and he just bumped their heads a tiny bit. “Sorry,” Henry murmurs. “Did I hurt you?” Ryeowook’s giggles into his chest tickle, but Henry still kisses his forehead where they collided, just in case.

“Did _you_ hurt _me_? With your head? _Really_?” Ryeowook tips his head back to let out peals of laughter. As it peters out, he rests his forehead on Henry’s shoulder. “Anyway, thanks. That was fun,” Ryeowook says, bright and gentle, pecking his way down Henry’s upper arm between residual chuckles. Now Henry’s confused all over again, which is the game and which is reality, but he decides to go with this because it’s nice. He curls his hand around Ryeowook’s resting on his sternum, and Ryeowook in turn wriggles his fingers until they’re squeezing Henry’s. “I’ll get dinner started in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Can I put my clothes back on?” Henry asks, unsure yet where the boundaries are drawn at the moment. He stretches however he can without having to actually move too much. Ryeowook looks up at him with an innocent grin, his eyes crinkling adorably with mirth.

“Nope!”

 _Not this again_ , Henry thinks, groaning. He ponders for a second. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Then can we fuck again after dinner?” Ryeowook’s smile loses its innocence, no bunny left in it, all wolf.

**Author's Note:**

> Because of [this](http://ryeomashita.tumblr.com/post/101648298953/thigh-wrestling-pt-1-ryeowook-vs-zhoumi). For my lovelies, who deserve much better than I can give them.


End file.
